


Particular Friends

by docholliday18



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docholliday18/pseuds/docholliday18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never thought the love of his life would be a small, ugly and cantankerous curmudgeon.   It was not Sophie, not his ships nor even his duty that made his heart glow.  That was right before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Particular Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [takadainmate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takadainmate/gifts).



The deep-set piercing blue eyes gazed out from the weathered face in worried contemplation at the glass-calm seas. They lay flat and tranquil, so much so that he could easily make out the ripples and bobs of fish under the surface as they snatched their unsuspecting prey. Normally such placidness would induce worry in the man. No captain of The Royal Navy worth his snuff could not. A flat surface meant no wind and no wind meant no way to land, and no land meant no place to refit or resupply. And that almost always meant certain death. Yet, on this day it was not the still, glasslike sea, nor the thought of his death or the death of his crew that caused his weathered brow to furrow. No, it was worry over his particular friend who lay in feverish delirium below.

_I should be grateful for this calm_ , he mused.

Three days ago they had anchored in a sheltered port to resupply and Stephen, stubborn and curious man that he was, had insisted upon going ashore to look for whatever necessities he needed, laudanum no doubt chief amount them.

Three days ago they had anchored in a sheltered port to resupply and Stephen, stubborn and curious man that he was, had insisted upon going ashore to look for whatever necessities he needed, laudanum no doubt chief among them.

Jack had been anxious to put back out to sea but had waited for him with growing frustration that had turned quickly to concern as the sun had made its steady way across the sky and had begun to sink towards the sea. Stephen had not returned until the sun was slipping below the horizon. He had been hauled aboard, his small, ungainly frame a spindly silhouette against the red and orange fire of the setting sun.

Stephen had never been the graceful sort, especially aboard a ship, but Jack had noted with growing concern that his particular friend's small and fragile frame had seemed even more frail than was typical for him. That Bonden had had to grip the Doctor about his narrow waist more tightly and had held onto him for far much longer as he had sought to gain his unsure footing on the slippery and lightly rolling deck.

Scowling, Jack had made his way hastily over to his friend, a quick word of reprimand ready on his tongue over a day at sea unnecessary lost for the sake of laudanum and plants.

Stephen, where have you…," the words had died in his mouth as his friend's piercing reptilian eyes had slowly lifted to meet his. Instead of the normal quick, intelligent shine they had been dull and sad, shinning with fever.

"I found 'em like 'is, Sir!" Bonden had supplied, his arms still supporting Stephen who had looked all the world like a broken marionette in the coxswain's strong arms. Alarmed, Jack had quickly strode forward and gently took the limp Doctor from his coxswain. Stephen had always been slight but he had felt as frail and delicate as a newly hatched chick and his skin had been warm and dry.

"Jack, my dear, must you carry me about so? Am I a women that I must be coddled?" Stephens' weak voice had inquired. At least he still had had enough energy to rebuke Jack for treating him with such delicacy.

He had smiled down indulgently at his friend. "Stephen, Soul, you seem to have found yourself a spot of trouble while in port."

"A spot? Just a spot?" came the retort. "I am quite capable to walking myself to my cabin and do not need to be carried about like a damsel."

Most men would have been put off by this seemingly ungrateful stab at a concerned friend but Jack had known Stephen for far too long. His particular friend was an unselfconscious, quick tempered shrew at his best but after years of friendship there was little left to fear between them.

"Yes, my dear, since you seem quite set upon acting like one," he had returned without malice.

Stephen had then fallen silent and limp in Jack's capable arms and had not moved or spoken even as Jack had set him gently onto his cot. It had not been like Stephen to give up an argument so easily and Jack's concern had only doubled.

More so when Stephen had not protested about being laid gently on the bed like a maiden and Jack had realized he had fallen into a deep, feverish sleep. He had carefully removed his friend's frock coat, breaches, shoes and shirt and had pulled the thick covers up over the small form. Stephen's skin had been warm and dry where Jack's gentle fingers had skimmed lightly over it. His thin hair damp and tangled. He had looked for all the world like a warm skeleton.

He had placed a kiss on the hot forehead and whispered into the skin, "Rest, soul, I shall get Higgins." Jack had been half hoping that the mention of the incompetent assistant would cause his ill friend to suddenly come to life and spit venom about being in the hands of such a fool. But, he had not and Jack had reluctantly gone topside and ordered the Surprise to unfurl her sails and depart.

Jack blinked away the painful memory. He was a captain of his Majesty's Royal Navy and he had had his orders to put out to sea; sick ship's surgeon or otherwise. An old twinge of regret rose up and closed his throat before he coughed it away. The old argument between duty and friendship would surely always be a point of contention between him and Stephen. He had been sure Stephen would recover as he always had yet he still lay below murmuring feverish secrets, some of which Jack already knew and many that he, surprisingly, did not. The large, calloused hands tightened on the weathered side of his faithful ship until the knuckles turned white. How he loved his lady, his old Surprise.

_And yet, if it truly came to it, I would give her up. Even turn in my pendant for Stephen. For that curmudgeon below._

For the first time since he had looked into Stephen's feverish eyes four days past he felt a fond smile tug the edges of his lips. Yes, there were a great may things that he, Jack Aubrey, would willingly give up for his great friend. Things that, as a young man, he had yearned and dreamed for. Things that now seamed to pale in comparison to losing his cherished companion.

With a deep sign, he returned his eyes once again to the calm, placid sea.

"Captain, sir!" a familiar, deep voice startling him out of his revery.

"Bonden," he returned, turing to face his coxswain. The man had been with Jack almost since the beginning of his career at sea and there were few, besides Stephen, who he trusted and cared for as deeply. "What is it man!," Jack snapped as a stab of rare fear spiked deep in his gut as he took in the man's unusually fearful countenance.

"It's the Dr, Sir! He's stopped moving, Sir! He's……well I don't know Sir!"

Quickly, he brushed past his distraught coxswain and made for Stephen's quarters.

The belly of the ship was dark, musty and hot with so many bodies living so close together and it was a condition that Jack would typically revel in…it was the smell of duty and home. But now it only served to spike his concern further as he descended the ladder to the lower deck. Stephen loved fresh air and open places and this was by far a most terrible place for him to be when he was in such a state. Vaguely he registered Bonden's steps behind him as the faithful coxswain followed close at his heels. He briefly acknowledged the salutes of this men as he strode past and ignored the weight of their concerned gazes. Their concern was well justified. They all loved the clumsy, cantankerous surgeon with a deep affection that rivaled Jack's own. There was not one among them that had not been either saved or healed by Stephen's talented hands.

Arriving at last at the Doctor's small cabin he ducked into the cramped, low room and stopped short at the sight before him. He had certainly seen Stephen sick and vulnerable, having rescued the beaten and tortured man from Port Mahon, but even that could not prepare Jack for the sight of his friend.

The closed eyes looked like sunken black pits in the thin, homely face and the hot skin was stretched so tightly over it as to appear transparent. The slight body unnaturally still and almost undetectable beneath the thin blanket.

Kneeling beside the low cot he laid a careful hand upon the hot, dry forehead. Gratefully, he heard Bonden close the door behind him granting him a measure of privacy with his friend.

"Stephen, my dear, you cannot go. I have such need of you here. There is far, far too much left for us to do. You still need to find your tortoise to name after me," he whispered. He stroked his fingers though the sparse hair before drawing his hand around to cup the angular cheek. His other had slipped below the thin blanket to rest across the sunken stomach. To his relief he could feel the shallow rise and fall of labored breaths. "Eh, what do you say, Soul?"

A tear made its way across his weathered cheek, down to the tip of his nose, where it trembled and hung for a moment, before splashing onto Stephen's parched lips. Another followed in its wet track. Closing his eyes, Jack rested his forehead against the one below him.

"Jack, Joy, it would be most unfortunate for you to have to pen a letter to dear Diana that I died not from a tropical illness but through drowning. Pray, if you must cry, do not suffocate me in the process."

Jack drew abruptly back at the weak voice. A small crescent moon of green shone at the bottom of the heavy eyelids and a ghost of a smile tugged at the thin mouth.

Reaching out to cradle the beloved face he brought their foreheads together once more. "Stephen, I thought for certain you were gone."

"Truly, brother, with all the noise and stench of this place once cannot possibly have enough peace to die. And besides, I could not very well leave your men in the hands of that fool Higgins."

Tears again filled Jack's eyes at the return of the scathing humor. Pulling back slightly he gently rubbed them from Stephens pale cheeks with his thumbs.

"My dear," he whispered past the lump in his throat, "no, you certainly could not. When you are well we shall take a cruise and we may relax and forget this awful business. What do you say, brother?"

"Yes, Jack, that would be lovely indeed," Stephen answered, his weak voice trailing off, the last word a breathy sigh as he once again slipped into a deep sleep.

Smiling gently down at his particular friend Jack Aubrey, captain of the HMS Surprise, fierce warrior and dutiful servant to His Majesty carefully ran his calloused hands over the wan face, through the sparse hair, over the long neck, then under the blanket to the thin shoulders, down the boney arms to finally grip the fine hands. They felt as fragile as a child's and just as small and delicate.

He remembered how they had looked after the rescue from Port Mahon; broken and twisted with bloody pits where the nails had been. How he had feared that Stephen would be so crippled that he would be forced to retire from the sea, that he would never again play his beloved cello, never again save another life.

But, Stephen, the stubborn Irishman that we was, had not only recovered but found a way to excel at those things that most men with whole hands could only hope to master in the mediocre. Why did he continue to underestimated this man!

Carefully drawing one delicate hand from under the light cover he brought it tenderly to his lips, kissing the well-known scars in turn, the pits where his nails had been, the center of the palm.

He never thought the love of his life would be a small, ugly and cantankerous curmudgeon. It was not Sophie, not his ships nor even his duty that made his heart glow. That was right before him.

Fin

 

 


End file.
